Little Lamb

4 ❦ you're so cold, so heartless

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Irresistible, my god. Divine. Him. The mask concealing his identity. It was so appealing, attractive. His eyes beautiful, please look at me, perhaps just hurt me again. Though I was so scared of him, yet I wanted him to lick the sweet honey between my legs. I was feral, hurt, confused. I didn't know what was happening to me. Now I found myself tied to a chair, vulnerable.

As I blinked at my carefully wrapped leg, the conversation with my captor drew me back to the present. His raised eyebrows and casual demeanor leaving me on edge.

"He stitched you up well," he remarked, his tone almost nonchalant. "Let's talk."

My lips parted, but the fear that gripped me made it difficult to form words. My legs trembled uncontrollably beneath me, a physical that consumed me.

"I don't wanna die," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart. The memory of the bullet tearing through my flesh flashed before my eyes, sending a shiver down my spine. The fear of what he might do next loomed over me like a dark cloud, suffocating me for any sign of hope.

"No, I won't kill you. If I wanted you dead, you would be already," he mumbled, his gaze unwavering as he observed my trembling form.

"I told you I know of nothing, so I'm not helpful to you. Then let me go," I pleaded, my voice breaking under the weight of fear and desperation.

He let out an amused scoff at my request, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took note of my fidgeting.

"No. I think not," he stated simply. "There are things we need to discuss before I do that."

"What does it matter? You will kill me anyway, get what you want. I don't care about the business you have with my stepfather. I was just living my life, finally free, and now I'm kidnapped, shot through the leg, tied to a chair in my own house, in my own room. You ruined everything!" I exclaimed, frustration and despair evident in my voice.

He stood there silently, listening to my outburst. His expression remained stoic as I poured out my grievances.

"You are a piece...of...work," he muttered under his breath, "If you aren't going to be cooperative, I'll find some other way to get my answers."

I scoffed, tears welling up in my eyes, threatening to spill over.

"What are you going to do? Are you going to torture me? Are you going to torture an innocent girl because of her stepfather's sins?" I choked out, a single tear rolling down my ucheek.

His gaze was unrelenting as he looked at me, his eyes scanning over my trembling form. I felt exposed under his scrutiny, vulnerable.

"An innocent girl you say?" he questioned softly, his tone cutting through the air like a knife. "You really think just because you're blind to his 'business' you're innocent? No. You've known what he's been doing. You're just a scared little girl, pretending not to know about him."

I averted my gaze, feeling the weight of his words crushing down on me. "What was I supposed to do?"

He reached down and tightly gripped my chin, forcing my face back up to meet his cold stare. His touch was rough, his words even harsher.

"Do you really think that your pleading and crying will make me feel sympathy for you? You are just as guilty as he is," he stated firmly.

"Perhaps I am...maybe I'm just as sick and bad as he is," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. I bit my bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. "But you can't blame me," I added, finding the courage to meet his commanding gaze.